#yes I used a HS lyric as the titel

[kneekeyta]

So, idk I just wrote this quickly. It’s…melancholy..I guess, but with a hopeful ending. Also I didn’t want to make this super long so I left a lot of it up to your own imagination to fill in what happened, Its mentioned briefly and well, yeah. Some end notes also.

only tagging @mmfdfanfic cos I’m trash. lol. sorry xx

 maybe, one day you’ll call me

He’s tucked away in a corner, listening to the steady pattering of rain against the window he’s sat by. It’s dimly lit inside, mostly due to the gloominess outside. The small bulbs that hang from the ceiling over each table were of low wattage, and of course the one hovering above the table he picked, was flickering in and out. He would have laughed had he found the energy as it seemed so fitting.

Fitting that he too was trying to stay alit, to not burn out, but figured it was only a matter of time until he’d burned out completely. And even if he did, when he did, he knew that sooner or later he’d spark again, at least he had hoped.

Everything sort of paused for a moment, he no longer heard the rain, or the soft bustling about of tea cups and kettles boiling. It all sounded muffled and distant and like it was actually him that paused and everything else around him kept going, kept living, and, well, that’s how he knew she was here. She always had the effect on him.

When the chair in front of him scrapped back, everything sped up again, the rain was pounding harder and it seemed a wind kicked up some. There were distant murmurs from the other patrons, and then finally a small, distant, “Hi, Finn.” She was right in front of him but she couldn’t have sounded further away.

That’s when he always knew, they could be sitting next to each other, but it’d feel like she was a million miles away and he hated missing her while sitting right next to her.

“Alright?” he mustered up after a moment.

“Yeah, you?”

He shrugged, whilst studying his folded hands. There was still some dry blood on his thumb from when he was biting it earlier that morning. An awful nervous habit he was never quite able to kick, it was a wonder how he had any nails at all if he’s honest.

“Thanks for coming,” she mumbles.

If he were to look up he knows her eyes would be big, almost wild looking, yet, sad and shiny and well, that was one of many reason he refused to look at her.

He shrugs in response, because he doesn’t have much else to say to her. Doesn’t know what else to say, because he feels like he’s said it all too many times over and he’s exhausted. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, doesn’t want to plead anymore, he just wants to leave. Because she can’t give him what he wants, which is a better reason, a different reason, like, I don’t love you anymore, something, anything other than the one he’s heard over and over again.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to…to umm,” she trails off, and releases a long breath.

It has been a while, two months to be exact, and well, that’s the longest they’d ever gone without seeing each other since they’d gotten together, even from when they were just friends.

“Just..uh here,” she says.

He doesn’t look up but hears the small slide of a box across the table top and he know what it is. He’s desperate to reach out and push it back, it’s hers, he bought it for her. He doesn’t want it back, doesn’t need the reminder of it.

The silence draws on and he thinks about just getting up and leaving, if this was all she wanted, then it’s done and he can go. He did his part and he’d very just much like to go back home.

“Aren’t you going to take it?” she asks, almost impatient, yet desperate sounding.

He shakes his head.

“Can’t you talk to me? Or at least look at me?” she asks, there’s a tremble to her voice. It was always a weak spot for him. He hated to see her upset or worse be the cause of it, but it’s not his fault this time, he did all that he could, yet it wasn’t enough.

Swallowing the lump in his throat he says, “I don’t want it.”

“I can’t keep it, Finn.”

“Do what you want with it then, it’s yours.”

“Why won’t you look at me?” the desperation in her voice causes his fingers to twitch a little but he’s not going to budge, he refuses.

“Because,” he answers.

“Do you hate me that much?” her voice is so small yet he can hear the slight crackle, and knows she’s trying not to cry.

He wants to groan, to shout, to shake her and tell her No, I love you! I will always love you! But he can’t because no matter how many times he’s told her, has showed her, expressed in every possible way he could think of, it was still never enough. And it hurt that she never fully believed how much he loved her.

“No.” he settles on answering her.

“Then please look at me!” Her voice raises some, in desperation and he almost, almost looks up, but he knows better and resists.

“I’ve given you enough, Rae. I can’t give you anymore, or I’ll have nothing left.” He can feel the tears welling up, his eyes will start to burn soon if he’s not careful.

“What’d you mean?”

Even without looking at her he can tell the movements she’s making. Can tell that she slumped back, that she looks completely lost and confused by what he’s saying. In any other circumstance he would have found it adorable and would have kissed her and explained to her the plot of what she missed. She in turn would have elbowed him with a small blushing smile and murmured how he distracted her.

“Every time we fought and you left, you took a little more of my breaking heart with you. And I can’t, Rae, there’s not much of me left, and I just can’t give you another piece…I can’t give you what I still have.” He says, and is surprised he made it through the speech without his voice cracking, because it’s right on the edge.

“I’m sorry, I’m not stronger.”

He’s heard that sentence time and time again and well, it hurts him a little more each time. Because he knows she has trouble and has in the past and always will. He just thought they’d eventually get passed the stage of her wanting to break up with him because she thought she wasn’t good enough, yet here they are. So this time, when she broke it off, he didn’t stop her or plead with her until she would come home. He just…let her go, whilst he held on to a small sliver of hope. Stupid him.

He sighs, shaking his head slightly, “You need to find a new saying cos that one is getting old.”

Desperately he wants to look at her, but he doesn’t, “We both know you were always the stronger one, between us; out of all our friends even. I thought…I thought loving you was enough, but you need to learn to love yourself, Rae. And, I know, I know it so fucking hard, but you need to.”

“Was it so horrible being with me?” she asks carefully.

He shakes his head, “No. Never. Well, only when you were breaking up with me every other week.” he laughs humorlessly.

“As much as I love you and will always love you, I just…I don’t think it will ever be enough. Because I have feelings too, Rae, and every time you’d try to break up with me, and tell me to go off and fuck someone else, someone worth my time. It hurt because I felt like I wasn’t loving you correctly or that I had done something wrong.”

“You were and you didn’t. It was me. You didn’t…you never….” She rushed but trailed off.

“You were perfect,” she mumbled.

“There ain’t no such thing, but I did my best.”

“Is that…is that why you just let me go this time? Because you felt like you failed?”

“Part of it, but more than anything I wanted you for once, to be the one to fight for me, fight for us.”

“I want to be that person, too!” she says eagerly.

He nods, softly.

“I…I..um, I went to see someone… to talk to, again.” She murmurs.

“That’s good, Rae. Really good.”

There’s a long pause and he’s not sure what else she wants him to say, he feels like he’s said all he can.

“I don’t…I still…I love you, Finn.”

He takes a deep breath because he doesn’t want to cry, he sick of crying and he’s not even sure how his eye are still able to tear up.

“I love you, too.” He says.

He scoots his chair back and stands, when she says, “Can we ever be….anything, again?”

He’s unable to help the small smile that pulls to the right, he sighs, and picks up the small velvet box, he places in her upturned hand and says, “Maybe.”

He leaves pulling his hood up over his head once he’s outside, the rain simmered to a sprinkle and for the first time in a long time he feels like he can breathe a little easier. 

She had a little fight in her. 

---

four months later

He’s barely inside his flat and his phone is ringing, he groans because he wanted to just flop down and sleep forever, but he knows that it could be work and he should pick up.

“Hello..”’ he answers quickly.

“Finn..”

It’s Rae.

“Yeah…”

“So, I heard you like Reggae….”

--

The End.

Okay, so, yeah open ending. I mean, pretty positive I think.

--

Also, I just wanted to write something like this because, I’m a pretty self-deprecating person like 98% of the time and its super hard for me to accept compliments and positive emotions of all sorts from people. And often you’ll find that that’s why if you happen to send me a nice message and it takes a while for me to respond is because I get quite worked up over it, it just takes a while for me to process it and be accepting of things most days. BUT I’m working on it in therapy, learning to accept the ‘love’ I’m shown/given.

But back to why I wrote this I guess, it’s just because I know that these things aren’t just one way and that you can hurt people, especially the people you care about by not accepting these small praises. And that sometimes you have to love yourself enough to fight for what you want. and so yeah.

None of this probably makes sense. siiiiiiiiigh

ANYWAY I’m done rambling hahaha just ignore me!

I’m gonna go write something fluffy now! Byeeeeeeeee